


Flight in the Black

by Glass_Ace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Ace/pseuds/Glass_Ace
Summary: "Dad went on a hunting trip and he hasn't been back in a few...months."  That was how Dean Winchester reunited with his younger brother.  It was just a week earlier that Sam Winchester witnessed his fiancee, Jessica Moore burn to death on the ceiling of their home.  The brothers take off in search of both their father and Jessica's murderer.  They are monster hunters after all.  They travel to different planets across the universe hunting down the evil sons of bitches threatening the weak and defenseless.  Sometimes for pay, most often not.  They make most of their money picking up passengers and along the way they acquire a motley crew including a quirky, candy loving pilot, a former pirate, a badass engineer and an equally badass computer expert, and a couple of mysterious travelers with equally mysterious pasts.





	1. The Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be done hopping between flashbacks and current times. The first chapter is current, and the next will most likely be a flashback. I hope this isn't confusing--just think Firefly and how they hop back and forth.

 

Take my love, take my land

Take me where I cannot stand

I don't care, I'm still free

You can't take the sky from me.

- _Ballad of Serenity_

 

The icy world was a dapple of dark and blue light from the single star in its system--too far to be really warming, yet too close to make the planet lifeless. There were petrified forests from ages before when the world used to be a friendlier place, and dark predators still scratched a life beneath the twisted, dead branches. It was a bleak reminder of how armed with fangs the universe was, when creatures that slept beneath the ice for years emerged to hunt other violent things.  Yet people still attempted to stake a claim to their own plot of land. Perhaps it was a testament to the human spirit, or its desperation. When hundreds of years before settlers landed with only blankets and simple tools at their disposal to try and tame the wild, it was because they had nowhere else to go. That and the ships had been flown by the corrupt. The captains took what little money they had to offer and marooned them on the frozen world. It was expected that the settlers would die out, killed by the elements or predators, and left without a second thought. But those settlers had clung to life, clawing out their own little corner, using fire and pure determination.

The petrified trees provided good building materials and they built their homes to keep the wild at bay. The bloodsuckers and flesh eaters made just as good eating for the humans, and once they figured out how to hunt the hunters, they survived. If clinging to life on the edge of a forgotten system could be called survival.  There were so many planets like these, hundreds of floating rocks that somehow held life, orbiting their stars, just out of the reach of the Universal Coalition. Unable to get the assistance they needed from the official channels, which was where the Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean, plus a few of their ragtag band, came in. Always ready to help with the monsters, either animal or human, always willing to bring what little hope could be mustered to those who asked.

That was why they had landed on this particular planet--the people here called it ‘Moonless’ but its official title was Aries X956, named after the red giant that would be dead in the next million years or so.  The oldest brother, Dean Winchester, stood on the crest of a white field, the distant edges ragged with the petrified forest. His breath plumed around his head, the mask only warming the air enough to stop his lungs from freezing. But the cold still bit at his nose, making it difficult to breathe as he looked over this dead world. It was all stone and ice, but there had been a call, so they had answered.

“You in position, Dean?”  His brother's voice crackled through his headset. Damn cold was screwing with the wiring in the system.

“In position and freezin' my balls off, thanks for checking,” he said. “All's quiet out here in iceland. No sign of monsters. What about Benny? He spot anything?”

“That’s a negative, brother,” came the deep sound of their gunman over the speaker. “Ain’t nothin’ with half a brain’s going to wanna move out in cold like this.”

“Yeah, well, both of you keep an eye out anyway,” Sam’s voice snipped, and Dean snorted, picturing the bitch face his brother must be making. “According to the people here, these things love nights like this.”

“Oh yeah, crisp evening, perfect thing for a stroll…” Dean trailed off when he spotted something moving just against the edge of the forest. At first he thought it was just a trick of the eerie light from the night sky, but then he saw there was something black, blacker than the forest itself, shifting. It detached itself edge and slid out onto the snow. Slid was the only word for it. It didn’t have a gait that he could make out--hell, it didn’t even look like it had legs. It was just a ribbon of black ink that trailed over the landscape, pausing momentarily now and then as though it was sniffing the air.

“Ugly located, my two o’clock,” Dean murmured low into the speaker and he heard Benny’s confirming grunt.

When it moved, it really moved. It was fast, skating over the surface of the ice without hesitation, honing in on Dean’s location with unnerving ease. A shot cracked through the frigid air, but it missed. The vampire didn’t even slow, continuing its deadly course with purpose. The thing was within yards of him and Dean had his hand on the handle of his machete, muscles tensing to prepare for a last ditch effort at cutting it down himself, when the second shot rang out. This time the bullet flew true, and the vampire dropped in its tracks without a sound. Dean stood for long moments, trying to breathe steadily, hand gripping his machete handle tightly.

“You gotta check if it's dead, Dean,” Sam's voice came over the com.

“Yeah, got that, genius, just givin' it a moment to pull itself together if it ain't,” Dean muttered back at him, but he was spurred into action anyway, moving towards the downed monster with slow steps. As he drew close, he couldn't tell where the head was. The thing looked like a black sheet draped over some lumps, and only a glint of light off one protruding claw gave anything away about its true nature.

“Hey, how the hell'm I s'posed to chop off its damn head if it ain't got one?”

“Turn it over, brotha, pull its skin back. Should be a head in there somewhere.”

With a noise of disgust, Dean toed the creature until it was flipped on its back. It sure as hell seemed dead. But the bottom side of it was just as formless as the other, and he realized Benny was right--he actually had to touch the damn thing. Bracing himself for any sudden movements, the hunter leaned down and poked at the loose skin until it seemed to give in one spot. With a careful tug, he pulled it back until its body was revealed.

“Aw, man, this thing's nasty,” he moaned.

Like a bag of bones covered in a thin film of some kind of mucus or slimy gray skin. The sight of it made his own skin crawl. But there, at where he had guessed the head was, was a skull with rows of vicious teeth. Damn thing didn't even have eyes, but it did have a nose, and he figured that must be how it was able to track and zone in on its prey so easily.

The vampire was definitely dead. Dean pulled his machete free from its sheath and quickly brought it down on its neck, severing tendons and bone in one clean swipe. Wiping the blade off, he slid it home just as fast. The metal could easily frost and snap in this cold.

“Marie Antoinette here's done,” he announced.

“Bring the body with you. It'll be easier to skin it in shelter.”

“Yeah, you're gonna get that fun job, Sammy.” There was an answering snort as Dean hauled the entire thing over his shoulder. The appearance of being a bag of bones was not just that--it weighed practically nothing, and Dean thanked what small gods there were for the little blessings of this miserable job.

He started trudging across the snow towards Benny and Sam when he heard another noise rise from the forest. It climbed from a moan to a shriek that sent already goose bumped skin prickling and made Dean freeze in his tracks.

“Uh, guys? Thought there was s'posed to be only one of these here...”

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“You better, uh, run. Now.”

He didn't need to be told twice. He plunged forward through the snow, legs moving as fast as he could force them, trying not to stumble over the awkward snowshoes strapped to his feet. He could hear the thing in the dead forest and it didn't sound far away, and right now it was him alone with the body of another one draped over his shoulder and he wasn't going to make it. Dean stopped, dropping the carcass and turning to make his stand, muscles tensed and ready, hand on the hilt of the machete. Chances were, he wouldn't have the time to pull the thing free and kill the vamp, now he had seen for himself the speed those things could get up to, but he wasn't about to die with his thumb up his ass waiting.  The respirator was fogging up his vision with panting breath, but he knew better than to take it off. So he did his best to look through the clouded visor, eyes taking in the blue white landscape. There it was, another shadow breaking off from the darkness of the forest, and Dean didn't let it try to hone in on him like the first one. He gave it his location right away.

“I'm right here, you son of a bitch!” he yelled out over its screech and it immediately swerved, slicking over the ice like an oil slick, unnervingly straight at him. He crouched, ready to fight, ignoring Sam and Benny cursing at him through the com, telling him to get the hell out of there. There was a crack in the air and he knew Sam was trying to take it down with a long range shot, but it was still moving without hesitation at him.  Dean had the moment to take a breath and brace himself before it launched itself at him, still shrieking. He could see the glint of fangs and claws from beneath the black skin before it slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. His machete swung, sinking into its side, but that hardly seemed to slow it. The jaws clicked within inches of his face as his free arm braced between his body and the vampire, holding it just barely off from clamping onto his jugular. The shriek had stopped and the air around them eerily quiet besides their harsh breathing. He barely registered another crack of sound, he was so focused on the thing wanting to tear his throat out, when it suddenly collapsed on top of him in a heap of bone and skin, all movement still.

Dean groaned, flopping back on the snow. He heard the crunching of snow nearby and saw the bulky shape of Benny Lafitte walking towards him.

“Thanks, Benny,” he muttered.

“Don't mention it, brotha,” the other man's voice crackled through his headset as he leaned over and hauled the corpse of the vampire off Dean.

“Please tell me that's all there is, Sam.”

“Scanners aren't picking up on anything else,” his brother's voice sounded suspiciously relieved and shaky and Dean smirked. It's good to be able to still keep him on his toes.

“Good. Then let's get the hell outta here and back to the ship.”  Dean climbed to  his feet with a groan and followed Sam and Benny back to the _Impala_ which had its loading door open, ready and waiting.  They climbed in and dumped the vampires unceremoniously on the floor.

“We’ll skin these things later,” Dean sighed, not wanting to deal with the uglies quite yet.

“Hey, Dean,” Gabriel's voice called out over the loudspeaker, and the seriousness of it catches his attention more than anything else. “Better get yourself up to the bridge and see this.”

Dean took stairs two at a time, skirting around a worried looking Jo and up onto the ship's bridge where Gabriel sat at the controls, staring at a screen on his dash.

“What've we got?”

“A junker ship. Flying manually,” the pilot said. “Looks like it's comin’ in hot.”

Dean's heart sank as he looked over Gabriel's shoulder at the screen. It was an old ship, one that had clearly seen better days and only a maniac would attempt to fly. It would be in view of their windows at any moment and he gave the pilot terse instructions.

“Go black. Turn everythin' off that don't need to be on.” He grabbed the microphone and called to Jo. “Jo, get to the engine room, shut her down. We've got Croats.”

He didn't have to be there to know that his engineer was practically flying to where their core kept his Baby going. He cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone again as Gabriel started shutting the ship down.

“Look, Jo, Benny, best brace yourselves for some black for a few minutes. We've got a shipload of Croatoan on our radar and they're comin' up quick. I don't need to tell you what'll happen if they spot us. We're going dark and let's just hope they think we're a piece of space junk and pass on by. Turn off all electronics you've got runnin', I don't want anything pinging their radar that we're here. Captain out.”

He clicked off the speaker as Sam burst onto the bridge behind him.

“Jo's got the engine,” he said, just as the purring sound they lived with constantly cut off, leaving them in the deathly silence of space.

“Alright, people, time to hold onto something,” Gabriel muttered, reaching out and flicking the final switch that plunged them into darkness. The only thing left was the hiss of their oxygen, even the gravity gone as Dean and Sam's feet lifted from the floor. The pilot grabbed his husband's hand and hauled him closer as the three men stared out of the window, waiting for the ship to come in sight.  They were silent as the void around them, Gabriel and Sam gripping each other as Dean held onto the co-pilot's seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white. This was the last thing they needed. With a ship of passengers that were his responsibility, and then there was Sam and Jo...he couldn't let them be taken by a bunch of cannibals.  The ship showed no sign of slowing, but that didn't mean a damn thing with Croats. They could turn and attack without slowing their pace--in fact, Dean wouldn't be surprised if they decided to just ram right into his ship.

It slid by in the darkness, all eyes of _Impala_ glued to it, silence thick with prayers and curses. Benny had his knives out, sharpened and at the ready. Jo curled in the engine room, tucked up against the core itself, shotgun cradled in her arms.

Moments ticked by like small pieces of eternity. No one let out a sigh of relief until it was very clear that the ship was well on its way and out of their orbit. Then Dean gave Gabriel the signal to rev things back up again, and that was when they all finally allowed themselves to believe they were going to be okay.

“That was a close one,” Sam commented once his feet hit the floor again.

“Too damn close. What the hell're Croats doing on the edge?”

“Guess the pickings got too slim closer to the middle,” Gabriel offered, pushing himself out of his chair once the ship was purring again, lights on and back on course. He turned to look up at Sam, eyes dark, and his husband looked at him for a moment before wrapping his arms around him and holding him close.  Dean could have made a noise of irritation, teased them, but he chose not to. Not in this moment. He felt a vague sense of wanting someone he could cling to as well, especially after a brush like that. Instead, he turned away to let them have their time and left the bridge, intent on checking his crew, make sure they were still holding together.

“Alright, let’s get the hell outta here, before those bastards decide they wanna take a closer look at us,” Dean said.

 Dean returned to the two vampires into the hold, intent on skinning them. Touching them made him grimace, but he grit his teeth and set about the grisly task. Soon it was skinned, and it sure as hell didn't look like much.  Just a bag of bones, really. And they were supposed to drop the damn thing off at the small village they were hunting them down for, although Dean was pretty sure that small town was gone, since the Croats were heading right in its direction.  He went back up to the bridge, calling out to Gabriel.

"Don't think we should head back to the village."

"I was just about to suggest the same thing. Poor bastards," Gabriel said, looking genuinely sad about it.

"Well, let's just head on out to Persephone, then," Dean says, and that seemed to make Gabriel brighten.

"Picking up passengers, Cap'n?"

"Damn straight we are. Hafta afford keepin' my baby floatin', after all."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Gabriel said, setting in the new coordinates.

Two days later, they were docking in Persephone.

 

  
  



	2. Sam & Gabriel Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have just bought a ship. Now, they just need someone who can fly it. Enter Gabriel.

**Three Years Earlier**

"Yeah, this's a great idea, Dean,” Sam said, staring at the ship in front of them with little to no enthusiasm. “Let's just get ourselves a ship, go off-world lookin' for Dad who the hell knows where and fight monsters.  Sounds great.  Except for the neither of us can fly the thing.”

“Where's your faith, Sammy?” Dean himself looked like a kid in a candy store, running his hands over the hull of the ship, and Sam could tell his brother had already picked out a name for the damn thing. “We can learn. Until then, we'll just hire ourselves a pilot along with an engineer.  There's gotta be some free-lance pilots lookin' for some extra money in their pockets.”

“Here's the problem with that one--we don't have any money to hire anyone. We can barely afford this clunker.”

“Don't you say that about our baby, Sam Winchester!” Dean patted the metal side of the ship affectionately. “Don't listen to the big bad man, Papa Dean's here for you.”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “I’ve got a bad feelin’ about this,” he muttered, but it was a lost cause by then.  They started with every pilot listing they could find on the system.  But each one was way out of their price limit.  Then they began trawling some of the unlisted pilots, mostly found in dive bars or whatever brothels Dean visited.  Of course, those were some of the more unseemly people, and Sam knew that they would cut their throats and steal the ship given half the chance.  Not that the Winchesters couldn't handle that kind of person, but Sam didn't feel like it was right to be constantly on-guard on their own ship.

It seemed like they were going to have to call it quits on the pilot front and Sam even tried to start learning something about flying space ships.  They were nothing like on-world ships, with about five million ways to screw up something and kill everyone on-board.  He was sitting in the cockpit, staring at the dashboard in frustration.  The damn thing kept beeping at him and hitting buttons was doing nothing to shut it up.

“Sounds like you've hit the auxiliary gas line. Might want to lower your pressure and turn it off,” came a voice from behind him, making him whirl around to see a man he didn't know.  A stranger who happened to be smirking at him around a lollipop.

“Who're you and what're you doing on our ship?” Sam demanded, immediately tensed.

“Don't worry, this's our new pilot,” came Dean's voice as he walked onto the bridge behind the stranger. “Sam, meet Gabriel. Gabriel, Sam, the most annoying little brother in the world.”

Gabriel's eyes widened as Sam stood, ready to snap at Dean.  “Holy crap, he's your _little_ brother, Winchester?”

“Hey, it's not my fault he's a Sasquatch!” Dean protested.

“Dean,” Sam interrupted, still eyeing the newcomer.  Dressed in a bright floral shirt and ridiculous shorts and flip-flops, this Gabriel looked anything but a pilot.  “Think we could talk a moment? In private.”

“Alright, alright, Sammy,” his brother let out a dramatic sigh and nodded at the doorway. “Give us a moment, would you, Gabriel?”

The man shrugged and gave Sam a parting salute before sauntering off the bridge. As soon as the door shut behind him, Sam turned on his brother.

“I thought we were going to be hiring the pilot together, Dean.”

“Well, yeah, but I checked him out. His credentials are solid,” he said, and he at least had the good grace to look somewhat ashamed. “The reason he wasn't on the listings before was 'cause he's been off on some kind of sabbatical.  Said he wanted to stay planetside for a while and take a break from space.  Been driving a taxi in Landingsport.  Here, take a look for yourself.”

He handed over a printout of Gabriel's resume and Sam looked it over with a frown creasing his forehead.  It looked solid and not too bad, but it was still suspicious.

“How come we can afford him?” he asked after a moment. “With jobs like this, he should be way outta our pay range.”

“That's what I thought.  Turns out the guy's got a thing for travel.  Doesn't care about the money so much as gettin' around.  He knows his stuff, Sam.  We need that.  At least we can start with him and if he doesn't work out, we can dump him and find someone else.  Or maybe you'll have picked up something by then and can fly this thing on your own.”

He grinned and slapped Sam on the shoulder.

“What do ya say, Sammy?  Let's at least get the hell off this damn planet.  We ain't goin' anywhere at this rate and I'm ready to get started.”

He looked too hopeful and eager for Sam to say no any longer.  Besides, he was tired of sitting around and just waiting, stewing in his own grief and anger.  They weren't going to ever track down their father or the damn thing that killed Jess at this rate.  So, they hired Gabriel and it was true--he knew what he was doing.  He also had a thing for sweets and left wrappers all over the ship, and a very irritating sense of humor.  He seemed to really enjoy pestering Sam, usually with raunchy stories that had his face heating up while Dean laughed uproariously.  Other times he would drink too much and Sam would find him passed out on the kitchen table or in one of the storage holds.  Dean didn't mind that, considering how he could do the same thing, but Sam had enough of that nonsense when he found him in nothing but a poncho and cowboy boots draped over the engine.

“Look, Gabriel, if you're going to pilot for us, you can't be drinking like that.  What if something goes wrong while you're passed out and we get...I dunno, sucked into a black hole or something?”

Gabriel had an instant quip about sucking and black holes, but Sam held up his hand, not wanting to hear it.  “I mean it, man. Not saying you can't drink, just try not to do it to the point you're unconscious.”

After that conversation, Sam never found a dead to the world Gabriel again.  Like the guy had actually listened to him or something, and didn’t that just beat all?  It didn't take long for Gabriel to catch on to what it was they did, but the pilot didn't tell them they were crazy, or that monsters weren't real.  He merely shrugged and suggested that they keep him on com for backup in really hairy situations.  A ship could do wonders when they needed a quick getaway.  He was pretty handy with first-aid, it turned out.  He had been the one who urged them to invest in some medical supplies ('Real medical supplies, Dean-o, not just a hunting knife and some fishing wire') and turn one of the storage rooms on the ship into an infirmary.  After a few jobs and some slick bartering, they were actually able to afford some of the stuff Gabriel insisted on having.

It was a also relief not to have to stitch himself up anymore, since Dean had always just plain sucked at suturing anything bigger than a paper cut.  Once, when he came back from one tussle with a ghoul sporting a deep gash on his shoulder, Gabriel had taken one look at him and physically pushed him into the infirmary where he set about stitching him up.  When he was done, the pilot had wiped his hands, ignoring the surprised thank you from Sam and stalked out, leaving a bemused shirtless hunter sitting in the room.

That was the first time since he had told him to go easy on the liquor that Gabriel got well and truly smashed, although it was sulky drinking on the bridge, where he passed out until Dean cajoled Sam into helping him drag the unconscious pilot to his own bunk.  It was the least he could do after the guy had patched him up, he guessed.  Other than that, things ran pretty smoothly with the addition of Gabriel to their crew. And then there was Benny, the ex-pirate who had watched his entire family get slaughtered by Croats and now wanted to fly with them.  He saved Dean's sorry ass on some backwater planet they were taking a pit-stop at, and for some reason, the suspicious Dean Winchester seemed to immediately connect with the burly man.  Sam didn't fully trust Benny Lafitte, and Gabriel shared his opinion, but Dean was 'El Capitain' as the pilot liked to refer to him, so who he wanted added to the crew was the final word, and both pirate and pilot proved time and again to be handy in a pinch.

They made their way across the system, going from planet to planet, taking on boarders who wanted a cheap ride, hunting when there were suspicious broadcasts on the channels, and bartering what they could scavenge.  Sam knew Dean was happier in this lifestyle than he had ever been when they were planetside, mostly because he liked helping people and ganking evil sons of bitches.  But Sam missed some of the perks of living on a planet with real gravity and food, even if he wanted vengeance just as badly as Dean against the monster that killed Jess.  

He missed Jess with an ache that couldn't be soothed, even with Dean's continual promises of finding the bastard who killed her and mounting his head on their wall. He wanted his revenge, it was true, but mostly he wanted her back, because she was the memory of a life he could have had if he had just been...normal.  He was in one of his ruminating moods on the bridge during a trip between worlds, staring out at the blackness of space and drowning his sorrows with a bottle of what had to be illegal proof rum he had picked up from their last hunt, when Gabriel found him.  The pilot took one look at him and settled silently in the pilot's chair nearby, propping his feet up on the dash and joining in the star gazing. Eventually, Sam offered over the bottle and Gabriel took a deep swig before handing it back.

“Where'd you learn to patch up injuries like that?” Sam finally broke the silence.  Gabriel shrugged.  “Little here, little there. It's dangerous work, bein' a pilot. Especially workin' for a couple of mutton heads like you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he wasn't satisfied.  “You do a lot of dangerous piloting in your time?” he pressed. Because Gabriel couldn't be that old. Maybe pushing forty, at the most.

“Hey, you take the jobs you can. You know how it is,” the pilot responded, reaching out for the bottle again. “Gotta make money somehow.  But everyone's out here for their own reasons.  You know mine--travel junkie.  I know your brother's and I got Benny's number, but you, Sam-squatch, what the hell're you doing out in the black?”

Sam was silent for a long time, refusing to look at the other man.  “We're looking for the guy that killed our mom,” he said at last. “It's a revenge thing.”

He could tell Gabriel was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and he also knew that he wasn't buying it.  “Nah. Good try, though.  That's why your brother dragged you out here.  But you, Sam my man, you wouldn't be out here for that.  You wanna be settled down and have a decent life. Why're you really out here?”

Sam's eyes narrowed, suspicions instantly raised.  The guy was a goofball--a good pilot, sure, but not someone he would have really called perceptive.  “I came out here to help Dean,” he said slowly, testing each word before speaking,  “Because there was nothing left for me back planetside.”

Gabriel was silent, expectant, and Sam shot him an irritated look.  “What's it to you?”

The pilot shrugged.  “It's good to know about people you're flying with.”

“Then what's the real reason you're out here, Gabriel?  And don't give me the bullshit about liking to travel.  Someone with your skill...you were trained, and trained by the best.  Are you on the lam?”

It seemed that Sam had needled him just as good as Gabriel had gotten to him.  The pilot's shoulders were tense, and he stared at Sam as long seconds ticked by.

“I'd tell you,” he finally said, voice the most serious he'd ever heard the pilot use, “But then I'd have to kill you.  And Dean.  And probably Benny, too.  Which would suck, 'cause I kinda like you, kid.”

Sam didn't want to believe him, but Gabriel, the master of easy laughs and random candy stashes, looked deadly serious. This wasn't a joke.

“Then don't tell me.” He took a slug from his bottle. “Whatever it is, I don't give a crap so long as you don't turn on Dean and me.  But, it also means I don't have to tell you mine.”

“Jess.”  

Sam's head snapped around and Gabriel had the decency to appear mildly sheepish.

“I might've checked you guys out before gettin' on board,” he admitted. “She died right before you two found me.  Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, even if I am one.”

Sam gripped the bottle hard enough that his knuckles whitened. “I don't want to talk about Jess.”

“It makes sense,” Gabriel shrugged, reaching out and snagging the liquor from his death grip, “I wouldn't wanna stay where the love of my life died either. Too many memories.  Too much pain.”

The younger Winchester's mouth twisted and he looked away, out into the pitch black of space.

“Doin' yourself in won't bring her back,” the pilot kept talking. “This is about revenge, I know that.  How she died--did some investigating, and that was foul play.  Someone or something killed her, and you are trying to find it and do it the same.  Only you know it's a suicide mission.  Or you're hoping it's gonna be one.  That's why you throw yourself at everything with claws and fangs without thinkin' about consequences.”

“Shut up.” The words are spat out, anything to stop him from talking. “Just shut the hell up. It's none of your damn business, Gabriel.”

“That's why you're so angry all the time, too,” he continued as though he hadn't heard him, and Sam exploded from the chair, grabbing him by the front of that stupid floral shirt he was always wearing.  He hauled him up until they were nose to nose and Gabriel hung in his hands like a rag doll, with nothing but sadness in his eyes that pissed Sam off even more.

“I told you to shut your damn mouth about it,” he growled and the pilot went to open his mouth again and that wouldn't do, so Sam's mouth crashed against his to silence him more effectively.  It worked, but there was no response, and Sam pressed harder, wanting to pull something that wasn't pity from the other man.  The something came as a surprise when the pilot melted in his grasp, hands clutching at his forearms, mouth pliant and loose, allowing Sam's tongue to surge forward and take what it wanted.  He tasted like cheap rum and sweetness from whatever sugar filled confection he had last eaten, and their teeth clacked together.

Sam wasn't sure how they got there, but Gabriel was sprawled across the dashboard under him, legs winding around his hips, fingers buried in his hair and moaning like a porn star as Sam ground down against him.  The taller man fumbled between them, tugging at the button and zipper of those damn shorts he always wore, hand diving into them the moment it could to close around his cock, and damn if the pilot wasn't as raring and ready to go as Sam.  There was a groan, though he couldn't honestly tell if it was Gabriel or himself, but that sure as hell didn't matter, not when Gabriel's mouth found his ear and bit down on it, or when Sam sucked a planet sized hickey on the pilot's neck as his hand roughly stroked over him.

Distantly, he realized that Gabriel had somehow maneuvered them so that he could undo Sam's jeans in return, before a hand closed around his own aching cock and pulling a half gasp, half grunt from the hunter.  They stared at each other as their hands moved, friction lessened with their combined precome and there was nothing even close to pity in the weird, amber eyes of the pilot.  Just want and lust, and it made Sam crush his mouth against his again, although for different reasons this time.  It didn’t take long for Sam to feel the build in his balls, that warning sign, before he came, spilling hot over Gabriel and his hands.  He let out a curse as he came, a curse mixed with Gabriel’s name.  When he finally caught his breath, Sam rolled off him with a groan, flopping into the pilot's chair and running his clean hand through his hair.  He felt like a fourteen year old boy coming so quickly.  Gabriel sat up, wiping his own hand carelessly on his shorts and grinning like an idiot.

Sam looked at him and saw the shorter man was still hard.  He gestured at his dick.  “You want me to…”  Gabriel’s grin did not dim, in fact it turned downright lascivious.  

“Want you to do what exactly?  Suck me off?  Sure, if that’s what you’re down for.”

Sam flushed, but he pushed himself up off the chair and knelt in front of the pilot.  For the first time, Gabriel looked uncertain.

“Hey, Sammy, you don’t have to…” Sam cut him off by leaning forward and closed his mouth around the tip of his cock, sucking lightly at him, tonguing the slit there, making Gabriel give a little whining noise.  He pressed a fist to his mouth as though to stifle the sound, but Sam pulled off an shook his head.

“I wanna hear you, Gabriel,” he ordered and the other man pulled his hand away, leaning back and bracing himself against the control panel.  Distantly Sam was amazed they hadn’t hit any alarms or necessary buttons to keep the ship flying.  But he figured Gabriel know that panel well enough to not hit a wrong button.  He closed his mouth around him again, suckling him with a tenderness that surprised himself.  He had only done this once or twice before with his old friend, Brady, when they were back in school, and it seemed like riding a bicycle.  He found his rhythm, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked him down, starting to pick up gusto as he lost himself to the sensation and flavor of that heavy heat in his mouth.  He raised a hand to cup his balls in his palm, rolling and squeezing them gently.  There was a steady stream of curses spewing from the pilot’s mouth, Sam’s eyes on him as he threw his head back, lost in pleasure.  He pulled back once again with a wet pop.

“I want you to watch me, Gabe,” he murmured, “I want you to watch me getting you off like this.  Watch me suck you dry.”  Gabriel’s head tilted forward, amber eyes nearly black with lust.  Sam smirked up at him, before closing his mouth around him.  This time a finger slid behind his balls, pressing gently against his opening.  It didn’t take long before the tight ring of muscle gave way and his finger slid in.  He crooked it, searching for that little bundle of nerves.  He knew he found it when Gabriel shouted, hips arching up.  Sam kept his eyes on him, making sure he was watching, and he was, which made Sam smirk around his mouthful and press his finger harder against his prostate.  

“Sam...I’m gonna…”  the taller man only sucked harder, encouraging him wordlessly.  He _wanted_ this.  Damn, did he want this.  Gabriel suddenly gave a loud shout, and his mouth was filled with sticky, salty heat.  He swallowed it down, throat working.  Gabriel groaned as he came down from his high, leaning over him and burying his face in his hair.  Sam realized he was pressing kisses to the top of his head and he smiled softly as he pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  The pilot pouted.  “I wanted to clean that up myself,” he muttered petulantly.  

“Maybe next time,” he murmured, then immediately wanted to take it back.

“Say, Sam, if that's how our heart-to-hearts are always gonna end, I'm going to be trying to get them to happen a lot.”

Sam shot him an irritated look and tucked himself back into his jeans.

“No, it’s not going to happen again.  It was a mista--”

“I swear to god, if you say mistake, Sammy boy, I'm going to rip your pretty hair by the roots right outta your head.  Besides, _you_ were the one who said ‘next time’,”  The seriousness of Gabriel's tone had Sam's head snapping up, and the look in his eyes now was one that made a shiver run up and down his spine.  Like Gabriel could snap his neck without straining himself.

“Okay, so what was it, then?”

“I'd say, repressed sexual tension between two fine grown-ass men,” he said, immediately relaxing, although the danger was still there. “You wanted it, I wanted it, so we took it.  End of story.”

Sam's brow furrowed, but Gabriel seemed content enough to leave it at that as he slid off the console, hauling his shorts up and pulling the collar of his shirt up to cover the hickey Sam had left there.  The sight of it made him shiver at the memory of it, but it seemed that their conversation was over as Gabriel strolled out of the bridge room, leaving behind a pretty surprised hunter.

If Sam had been expecting things to change somehow after that incident, he was sorely mistaken.  Gabriel was still his crude, easygoing self, making jokes and trouble as though nothing had happened.  And maybe nothing had happened, really.  Maybe it really had just been a heat of the moment kind of thing, where tempers had flared and hormones clashed.  At least, that's what Sam tried to convince himself.  Tough to do since they were always in small quarters.  He couldn't seem to relax around the pilot, and if he wasn't careful, the others would catch on.  He had a feeling Benny already seemed to know _something_.  The ex-pirate was always watching things unfold with a knowing gaze, and he knew that he was being watched.  

Dean, on the other hand, might take longer to get there, but he would, eventually.  So he forced himself to sit and play cards like nothing was different, to accept the constant pokes from Gabriel with his usual irritation, and to resist the temptation of slamming the pilot against the wall and screwing him silly.  Best thing to do was to avoid being alone with him.  If he could.  Of course, that was always easier said than done.  As fate would have it, there was a job on a little rock of a planet called Amara that required the four of them.  Since neither Sam nor Gabriel were willing to work alone with Benny, that left Dean and Benny pairing up, which meant the younger Winchester and the pilot were a team.  

Dean snorted at Sam's bitch face as his little brother hauled his bag over his shoulder, checked his gun once, then stomped out of the ship's hangar, not even bothering to look and see if Gabriel was following him.  They walked in silence for a while, Gabriel trailing a few feet behind him, but the silence was just too good to last long.

“You know, you're acting like I'm the one who jumped your bones and then tried to write it off as a fluke,” he pointed out when they had hunkered down in a secluded area of rocks. Apparently there was a cave entrance around there somewhere, and the wendigo, the monster they were after, would be emerging come nightfall for its evening hunt. Sam frowned, refusing to look at him directly.

“What about you, Gabriel? You're the one acting like nothing happened at all,” he pointed out.  He could practically hear the other man's eyebrows fly up to his hairline.

“So you're pissed because I was tryin' to get things a little more back to normal.  I see. Hate to say this, buddy boy, but you were drunk and angry, so I figured you didn't want to think about it.”

Sam's head whipped around and he stared at him in disbelief, mouth opening to protest, make some kind of argument when there was a crackle over the com and Dean's voice cursing both of them out for not keeping their eyes open wherever the hell they were because the wendigo was making tracks right towards them.  Sam spat out his own curse, jumping to his feet instantly, when there was a loud howl above them.  He had forgotten to keep the trees above them scanned for the thing--only thing a wendigo was better at than running was climbing trees.  He barely saw the flash of claws and teeth before the thing was on him, raking a long gash across his chest.  It hurt like hell. His gun went flying as the thing knocked it from his hands, but he managed to get hold of its leathery skin, just barely keeping a mouthful of snapping fangs from tearing into his throat.  He had no idea where Gabriel was until the thing let out another howl, whirling away from Sam and turning on the shorter man. Sam was immediately on the ground, searching for his gun when he heard a popping noise and looked up to see where it went.

Sam's chest was heaving as he gasped for air, staring at Gabriel as though seeing him for the first time.  This grim faced, blood flecked man was a far cry from the joke-cracking, sweets eating smart-ass he was used to.  He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing was coming, and his mouth worked like a fish until the other man turned to face him directly, gold eyes flicking down to his chest.

“Shit, Sam, look at you,” he said, and it was only then that Sam remembered he had been viciously mauled by the monster. The pain from the claw wounds made itself known finally, and he groaned, slumping to the ground. Gabriel was at his side in a flash, tearing at the edge of his own shirt until he could wad up enough fabric to press against the flowing blood and temporarily staunch it.

“Hey, you're not wearing one of your stupid flower shirts,” Sam realized, brow furrowing in confusion, and Gabriel snorted.

“They're called Hawaiian shirts, and they are total vintage.”

“Still stupid lookin'. Stupid flip-flops, stupid shorts...”

“Now that's the blood-loss talkin', champ,” the pilot chided him, grabbing one of his hands and holding it against the wadded up shirt pressed against his chest. “Think you can hold that there while I get your ass back to the ship?”

“Where's Dean?”

“He'll probably get here in about...”

“The hell's going on here? Sammy? The hell happened?!”

“Speak of the devil.”

“Hey, Dean, Gabriel just killed himself a wendigo,” Sam said, and he felt like his tongue was too thick to speak around. “An’ saved my sorry ass.”

“The thing came outta nowhere. Took us by surprise.”

Sam was finding it harder to focus on what was going on around him.  The edges of the world were going fuzzy, and he was starting to feel chilled.  Only the spots where Gabriel touched him were warm and he leaned into that warmth, ignoring the talking and shouted questions going on around him.  At one point he was vaguely aware of being on his feet and they were even moving, but the warmth was still there, and that was all that mattered to him.  When his mind finally cleared completely, he was in his bunk, not the infirmary like he had expected to be.  He lifted his head, feeling a distant pain in his chest, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before.  Glancing at his chest, he saw nothing but swathes of white bandages.

“Careful there, Sammy, wouldn't wanna pop those stitches so soon.” Gabriel was sitting in the corner of his bunk, one of Sam's books on his lap. “Had enough of a close call as it was.”

“I...what happened?”

Gabriel's eyebrows rose. “You don't remember what you said about me saving your sorry ass?”

Sam rolled his eyes, laying back down with a low groan.

“I meant after that, jerk.”

“Gabe and me dragged you on back to the ship and stitched you up, that's what,” Dean said as he climbed down the ladder. “Lucky for you he was there.  Lucky for him, he managed to stop the thing from killin' you both, or I woulda ganked his ass for letting you get hurt.”

He stepped over to his brother's bed, grinning down at him.  Sam knew Dean well enough to see the strain of worry around the edges of that smile. “How you feelin' there, little big man?”

“Not too bad, actually. What did you guys give me?”

“Only the best drugs we could scrounge up outta the infirmary, and then some from a private store I've got for special occasions,” Gabriel said with a low chuckle.  “You probably won't be feeling anything short of a nuclear explosion for a while now.”

“You hungry? Thirsty? I can rustle you up some grub,” Dean offered, immediately sliding into his mother-hen role.  Sam was about to say he didn't need anything, but the look on Dean's face changed his mind.

“How about some soup and one of your awesome grilled cheeses, Dean?” he suggested and his big brother nodded, grin easing into more genuineness.

“Got it, Sammy. One tomato soup and cheese a la Winchester comin' right up!  You just rest easy there, little brother.” He patted Sam carefully on the shoulder before making his way back out of the bunk.

“You're a good brother, Sam Winchester,” Gabriel commented from his corner.

“You know, you don't have to stick around anymore. I'm alive, after all.”

“Here I was hopin' I could Florence Nightengale you into fallin' for me,” the pilot said, fluttering his eyelashes at Sam. Sam flung a pillow at his face.

“Shut the hell up, Gabriel.” There were a few moments of quiet--other than Gabriel chuckling to himself as he put the pillow behind his own back, claiming it for himself--before Sam spoke again. “What...how did you do that, anyway? Out there against the wendigo, I mean. I've never seen anyone move like that before.”

“I'd tell you, Sammy, but then I'd have to kill you.” Gabriel held his hands up when Sam snorted at that answer. “No, seriously.  Some things are just better left unexplored. Just be happy you're alive and that I'm your knight in shining armor.”

Sam turned his head to look at Gabriel.

“No way in hell am I a damsel in distress,” he protested.

“Nah, nothin' so boring traditional as that.  You usually don't need me, that's why I like to stick with with the ship. Besides, I thought this little hunt would've been a good chance to finally have our little tete-a-tete.  You have been avoiding me, Sam Winchester.  I know it's because of the fun session on the bridge, which took me forever to get outta you, by the way, but I want to know why it's got you so turned around.  It was fun.”

Sam grimaced.

“It was fun, sure.  I'll give you that.” He held up a hand at Gabriel's victorious grin. “But it's not going to happen again, Gabriel. I'm serious.  We can't do something like that, it could risk everything we have going here.”

There was a pause and Sam found himself looking down at his bandaged chest, not wanting to see the bewildered hurt on the pilot's face.

“Okay, so now tell me the real reason.”  His head snapped up, and instead of hurt, there's only a sort of resignation there, like Gabriel had been expecting that answer.

“I...that is the real reason, Gabriel!  We can't...fraternize!  It could put our hunt in danger, it's just wrong for shipmates to...”

“Wrong, try again.”

“Oh, come on...”

“Fine, I'll take that answer for now.  But you're gonna tell me the truth here, one way or another, because I know for a fact that you want my bod,” Gabriel stood and made his way over, and for one crazy moment, Sam thought he might stop and do something to him, but the man was just walking over to the ladder leading out of his bunk. “You're going to tell me, Sam Winchester, and then we're going to do it again.  And it’s going to be awesome.”

There was no time to protest before the port slammed shut, leaving him alone and bemused.  That seemed to happen a lot when Gabriel was involved.  It took a while for Sam to get back on his feet.  The wendigo had done a pretty serious job on him, which he was reminded of everytime he looked in the mirror when changing.  The slashes were healing slowly, and Gabriel insisted on changing the bandages himself, using the excuse that Sam couldn't do it, and Dean would only screw it up royally by doing them too tightly or not tight enough.  Of course, he would use that time to put his hands everywhere he could and make Sam squirm awkwardly, followed by a bitch face to match all bitch faces, which would pull a giant innocent grin from the pilot.

At least Gabriel didn't try to draw him into a conversation about what happened on the bridge again.  For his part, Sam didn’t outright protest the pilot’s thin excuses to touch him every chance he got, whether it was brushing past him in the kitchen space with a hand trailing over his hip, or a foot nudging against his own under the table on the rare occasions they were sitting down for a meal together--all touches out of sight from any prying or curious eyes.  He told himself it was because he owed Gabriel his life, and Sam had been the aggressor all this time.  He certainly did not tell himself it was because he actually enjoyed the attention.  It was a while before he even thought about making a move himself.  He had been going a little stir-crazy from not going on any hunts--thanks to Dean’s insistence and Gabriel’s not so subtle support of their captain’s insistence--and basically being confined to the ship under two sets of watchful eyes.  He didn’t even know he was going to make a move, until he was sitting in his bunk while Gabriel changed his bandages.

“Looking real good there, Sam,” he said, nodding at the healing scars.

“Does that mean I’m bein’ let out of house arrest?” the younger Winchester asked with no small amount of irritation, glancing up at Gabriel.

“That’s up to big brother, now isn’t it?”

“Like you haven’t been helping him out, Gabriel,” Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been telling him it’s taking a lot longer than it really is, haven’t you? Trying to keep me outta trouble. Like I’m some little kid. I’m not a kid, though.”

“No. You’re not, Samster. Not even close.”  

Sam looked up at him, meeting almost gold eyes with a serious expression on his face.

“Then stop treating me like one,” he said, hooking a hand around Gabriel’s neck and pulling him down so their mouths crashed together.  Gabriel moaned, low and filthy into his mouth, hands coming up to tangle in Sam’s hair.  After a long moment of enjoying each other’s mouths, with a healthy dose of tongue thrown in the mix, Gabriel wrenched back with a gasp.

“You’re not ready for more than that, I’m afraid,” he said, and he looked like he truly regretted it. “Don’t wanna go aggravatin’ those wounds anymore than we have to.”

Sam pouted, but Gabriel stayed firm, shaking his head.

“Nope, not a chance, kiddo. Maybe in a week or so.”  

That earned a groan from Sam and he flopped back on the bed.  “Seriously? A freaking week?”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not a doctor,” Sam sulked.

“Afraid I am, until you find yourselves a bonafide M.D.” Gabriel shrugged.

“Well, then, get the hell outta here before I break ‘doctor’s’ orders,” Sam said gesturing at the ladder. Gabriel grinned and leaned in, quickly stealing one more kiss before climbing up the ladder and leaving Sam to stew in his blue balls.  But, as soon as that week was up, Sam cornered Gabriel on the bridge, once again, pinning him against the control panel and crushing their mouths together in a searing kiss.  Gabriel melted under his mouth, arms wrapping around his shoulders, letting out a loud moan.  Then, with that freakish strength of his, Gabriel whirled them around, now the one pinning Sam to the control panel.  He broke the kiss with a gasp, looking up at Sam with those honey brown eyes.

“FYI, I’m a total top,” he said, before diving back in for another kiss.  Sam wasn’t surprised by this little bit of information. In fact, he would have been surprised to find out the opposite.  This time, it was Sam’s turn to break the kiss.

“Shouldn’t do this… up here…  ” he gasped, “Don’t want Dean or Benny walkin’ in on this…”

“Fair enough,” Gabriel grinned, leaning up to suck another planet sized hickey on Sam’s neck. “Your bunk or mine?”

“Mine,” Sam replied quickly.  Gabriel stepped back, grabbing Sam’s hand and dragging him off the bridge, making a beeline for Sam’s bunk. The moment they are down the ladder, Gabriel was pushing Sam back onto his bed, crawling over him, looking positively predatory. It sent a shiver down Sam’s spine, but he grinned up at him.

“Hope you’ve got lube here,” Gabriel said, and Sam gestured at the small table beside his bed. Gabriel immediately went rummaging through it and quickly located the bottle of lube, which he held up victoriously, along with the packet of condoms he found in there right next to it.

“Look at you, boy scout,” Gabriel chuckled, popping open the bottle and drizzling plenty of the viscous liquid onto his fingers. Then he spread Sam’s legs open and pressed a finger carefully against his entrance, watching Sam’s face carefully for any signs of distress or pain, but Sam merely nodded.

“I’m fine, Gabe, keep goin’,” he encouraged him.   Gabriel slid the finger into him, until it hit the second knuckle, then crooked his finger, seeking out that sensitive bundle of nerves, which had Sam’s eyes rolling back in his head, moaning out shamelessly.

“Shit, _more_ , Gabriel,” he urged him on.  Gabriel obliged, pressing a second finger into him, scissoring his fingers, stretching him open, preparing him as best he could.

“ _More_ ,” Sam insisted.

“Careful, Sammy, don’t wanna get too greedy,” Gabriel warned, although he did add a third finger, crooking all three to find his prostate, making Sam arch off the bed.

“ _Fuck!_ Right _there!”_ Gabriel grinned up at him, looking extraordinarily proud of himself.

“Think you’re ready, big guy?”

“Hell _yes_ ,” Sam was practically writhing against his fingers. “C’mon, Gabe, _do it_.”

“Your wish is my command,” Gabriel said, carefully pulling his fingers free and crawling up Sam’s body, sealing his mouth over  Sam’s. Sam’s arms came up around his shoulders, tongue plunging into his mouth, claiming it hungrily.  Meanwhile, Gabriel’s hands were busy working at the condom wrapper, ripping it open, then somehow managing to roll it on without looking. Hey, the guy had talent.  Then, he was slowly lining up with Sam’s stretched entrance, pushing into him carefully, watching his face once again for any discomfort.

“I’m _fine_ , Gabriel,” Sam assured him, smiling up at him. “Don’t treat me like glass. I can handle a lot.”

Well, that was apparently all the encouragement Gabriel needed.  He surged forward, into Sam’s willing body.  Then he paused, head hanging, as he adjusted to the sensation, as well as allowing Sam adjust.

Finally Sam murmured, “I’m ready.”

“Good,” was all Gabriel had to say before he was moving, slowly at first, with a slow roll of his hips, that had Sam moaning, clinging to him desperately.  But it didn’t take long before the pace picked up and soon he was slamming into his body, nearly pulling all the way out before surging back in.  Sam groaned, arms coming up around his shoulders, clinging for dear life as he was folded nearly in half.  One of the downsides to having a smaller lover.  And _lover_ , there was a word he’d never thought he’d use in conjunction with Gabriel, of all people.

He could feel the buildup in his balls, and that just showed how long it had been since he’d gotten any.   At least not since their little tryst on the bridge.  It had been _weeks_ since then, although it felt longer.  So much longer.  He let out a shout as his orgasm suddenly washed over him, spurting hot over both of their stomachs. Gabriel kept going, thrusting into him hard.  It seemed to go forever, and all Sam could do was hold on for the ride.  Gabriel’s expression was one of naked adoration that made his stomach twist into pleasant knots.  The last time he had seen that look on another person’s face had been...he pushed the thought from his head stubbornly.  He focused instead on the pleasure of the other man pushing into him, filling him over and over again.  His hands scrabbled at Gabriel’s back, fingernails digging into the bare skin as though to leave marks that he can feel for days.

“Come on, Gabe,” he urged breathlessly, hips rocking up to encourage him further.  

“Fuck, _fuck_ , _Sam_ ,” the sandy haired man moaned and his hips stuttered as he came, and Sam could feel the pulsing heat of the condom filling as the pilot became undone.  The other man sucked in deep breaths as he tried to calm himself, keeping himself braced over Sam’s body, until the co-pilot decided he had enough of that and pulled him down firmly against his still tender chest.  The slight pain was one hundred percent worth it, though.  Gabriel grunted.

“Still gotta take off the concom…” he mumbled into his skin.  Sam sighed and let go of him long enough for the shorter man to roll to the side, pull of the condom, tie it quickly and chuck it randomly.  Sam chuckled when he heard it smack wetly somewhere in the corner of his room.  He pulled Gabriel back to him, suddenly wanting to be close to the other man...his lover, he finally allowed himself to admit.

“That was pretty fuckin’ awesome, Samuel Winchester,” his bedmate huffed against damp skin.

“Damn straight it was.  So, when are we going to do this again?”  Gabriel raised his head to look down at him.

“Listen here, young whippersnapper, not everyone can get it up right after they’re done,” he chided him, but Sam just grinned and pulled him down into a deep kiss.  “I meant in the future, not right now, dumbass.”  That seemed to take the wind out of his sails, and the honey eyed man smiled softly down at him.

“So...we _are_ going to do this again?” he asked in a hesitant tone which made Sam roll his eyes.  

“Dude, two minutes ago you were balls deep in my ass and that was probably the best sex of my life.  Of _course_ we’re gonna do it again,” Sam flicked his forehead gently making Gabriel smile wider and he leaned down to kiss him again.  

“Awesome,” he murmured against his mouth.


End file.
